You were never perfect
But you tried
Until you couldn't try
Anymore

You were a good mother
But you lost your will
To go
On

You were full of beauty
Until your eyes
Began to sink
In

You were slowly dying, from the inside out.
You couldn't handle the pain.
You were engulfed with guilt.
And I imagine you laying on the bathroom floor, staring at the walls as they cave in on you.
Trying to grab you so you hurry
You take the bottle in your hand
And swallow down every pill
You slowly drift off to wonderland

You were wonderful
But you were
Sick

Your mind wasn't in the right place
It never had been
And I knew that

So why now am I feeling guilty
I couldn't have changed your mind
You wanted to die
So you did.


Die.

I talk too much
I speak too loud
My stupid round face
My stupid round stomach

My stupid tongue
Not making my words right
My teeth are stained
And crooked

My stupid head
Not thinking things through
My stupid eyes
Lazy and ugly

My stupid legs,
Not fitting through the crowd
My stupid hips
Getting stuck in things

My stupid stretch marks
Making me look like a zebra
My stupid *******
Not fitting in anything

Why am I always

Ugly
Fat
Clumsy
Loud

But worst of all,
I'm always looking
Through my stained mirror

I watch my hands
Destroying that mirror
And I finally understand
That I am a killer

Not only is the mirror breaking
But I am too
And I know that I am hating
The one staring back through

Nobody can hate me
As much as I do
Now you can see
What has been hidden from you

People say they love me
But they love the fact that they aren't alone
Would they live on in glee
If all that was left of me was my bones

I know I have nobody
And I guess I don't care
I've never lived comfortably
Only in despair

So this is the end
Of this mirror of mine
No more time to pretend
This is the end of my line

Peel it off
One by one
By every single thread
So every single strand
Is unwoven by a broken hand
And reveal to us
What you've done.
Were you scared?
Were you scarred?
Beaten and mashed in and marred
by the wasteland in which we breathe?
I don't know which came first:
the euphoria of absolute power
or the fear of it.
Regardless,
we are here.
in the wasteland.
And the worst thing you can do-
the only crime you can commit-
is to stop peeling layers.
and stop wondering why we are
where we are.

A child need not be very clever
To learn that "Later, dear" means "Never."